


Oh REALLY John!

by PatPrecieux



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, First Kiss, John is a Saint, M/M, Mrs.Hudson approves, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Sherlock is a Brat, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 06:38:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9644714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatPrecieux/pseuds/PatPrecieux
Summary: Sherlock disappears for three days. His new flatmate is NOT amused.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sherlock Holmes is dismissive of other people's feelings, and has no concept of actions having consequences. John Watson is determined to correct both problems.

The first day, John would be ashamed to admit later, he was rather relieved that Sherlock was elsewhere. The blessed quiet was like a gift from God. No shouting, criticizing, or violin screeching. The last was especially galling, as the detective could play beautifully IF he so desired.

 

To be brutally honest, Holmes being gone when Watson woke, had saved the doctor what was sure to have been a spectacular row. The night before, John had come back to the flat from a late A&E shift at Bart's to find ALL the food he had bought that morning rotting or spoiled on the kitchen counters.

 

The fridge and freezer were crammed with what John reckoned must have been the remains of a rather thorough autopsy. He liked Molly Hooper, but not her "procuring" body parts for her girlish crush.

 

Being a gentleman, John would not blame her, but his flatmate was going to get an earful. For once, the older man was glad Sherlock almost never slept, because this discussion would NOT wait.

 

Filled with righteous indignation, John threw open Sherlock's bedroom door without knocking and found him - asleep. Damn! The man was dead to the world. Not only that, but he was sucking his thumb, which, John was disturbed to find, made him conjure up the word adorable.

 

He should have tossed the git out of bed and given him a proper lecture. Instead, John covered the still dressed Sherlock with the duvet and left him to slumber.

 

By the time Watson had binned the carnage, exhaustion overtook him, and he had pulled himself painfully up to his bedroom and collapsed.

 

When Sherlock didn't appear at all on Thursday, John was satisfied that, for once, the younger man just might be feeling some remorse over bad behavior. Friday morning, worry began to creep around the back of the doctor's mind. By Friday night, worry had taken a place front and center.

 

Molly hadn't seen or heard from Sherlock since Wednesday when he had "cleared out" her morgue. Mrs.Hudson was equally ignorant of his whereabouts, but seemed more than a little concerned. If for no other reason than worrying their sweet landlady, John was going to read Sherlock the riot act.

 

The two men had only been flatmates a few weeks, so perhaps, John reasoned, the detective did this from time to time. He had been reluctant to involve NSY, but did ask Greg Lestrade if any cases had arisen.

 

"Wouldn't you be the first to know mate?"

 

John cleared his throat, glad the phone call prevented the cop from seeing his face flush. "His Majesty doesn't always share what he thinks I'm too much of an idiot to comprehend."

 

"Funny that. I thought you were friends."

 

John coughed, "As he understands the meaning of the word, we are. But it is Sherlock Holmes we're talking about. For all I know, he's deleted having a flatmate, or a friend from his Mind Palace."

 

"His what?"

 

"The part of his brain where he stores what he thinks is important. Like tobacco ash and the viscosity of bird droppings."

 

"So he keeps pigeon shit and forgets YOU?"

 

"I wouldn't dismiss the possibility, Greg. But I'm still worried about the maniac."

 

"Right. If I hear anything John, I'll tell you. Want an all points put out?"

 

"No. Not just yet. If he's at Windsor Castle, or holed up in the clockworks of Big Ben, I'd never hear the end of it. Thanks tho."

 

"Mate, I know this is the last thing you want to hear, but maybe it's time for drastic measures."

 

John sighed from his toes, "Agreed. I'll call Mycroft."

 

~~~***~~~

 

"You say you haven't been in contact with my brother for three days, Doctor Watson?"

 

"Correct. I realize this may be normal for Sherlock, but I've no way of being sure. Apologies for having to trouble you Mycroft."

 

"Not at all John, if I may call you John. Unaccustomed as I am to this situation, you seem to have become my brother's friend. Therefore, I appreciate your concern."

 

"Can you find him Mycroft. That is, I mean, if he isn't doing something for MI6, or the Queen."

 

"Nothing of which I am aware. Let me check my sources, you'll be hearing from me shortly."

 

Pacing the floors of 221B was NOT helping John's stress level or anxiety. A cab backfiring outside nearly sent him running for his gun. "Get a grip Watson, this isn't a battlefield." However, it occurred to him, life with Sherlock WAS like a war.

 

The mobile buzzed, and John nearly tossed it to the floor. "Mycroft what have you found?"

 

"Calm yourself doctor. My brother is on his way home to you as we speak. He is, as they say, safe and sound; though I doubt he has given much care to his "transport" these last days."

 

"Where has he been? What has he been doing?"

 

"Soho, apparently researching the effects of long term use of marijuana on those ages 25 to 40. And before you suffer an embolism, John, I can assure you, he only observed. According to him, partaking would have skewed his results."

 

"Oh just great! Glad to hear it! He couldn't take one damn second to tell me?!"

 

"John, in his defense, small though it may be, I do not believe it ever occurred to Sherlock that you would be concerned. My brother is loathe to accept any interference from me, and to this point, is totally unfamiliar with someone worrying after him. To be blunt, he simply doesn't understand."

 

"Believe me, Mycroft, I'm going to make sure he understands in no uncertain terms. Got a problem with that mate?"

 

"I am not adverse to your intentions towards my brother, John."

 

"My intentions? Meaning what exactly?"

 

"My brother is in need of a firm hand and a loving heart. I believe you are in possession of both those things. And, it's all fine."

 

"It's all f..., how do you know..?"

 

"The "deduction thingy", I had it first. Now, the door to your flat should be opening in 3, 2, 1."

 

~~~***~~~

 

Sherlock Holmes was rarely startled, he was now. One step in the door, he found himself enveloped in a crushing hug.

 

"Oh REALLY John! What are you doing?"

 

"Showing you I'm glad to see you, git."

 

"For what reason, have you been away?"

 

"Have I been away?! You're the one who's been gone for three days! What the bloody hell have you been playing at?!"

 

"I'm sure Mycroft has informed you of my research. You have questions?"

 

"Questions?! Do you have any idea how fucking worried I've been about you? Frantic doesn't even begin to cover it!"

 

"Oh REALLY John! Worried, only idiots worry. Ah, Mrs.Hudson, I require tea and biscuits."

 

Martha's face was a mixture of shock and joy. "Sherlock, dear, where have you been? What have you been doing? It's almost four days."

 

"Hudders, I am aware of the passage of time. Your concern is foolish. Either make yourself useful, or go inflict your meager intelligence on someone else."

 

John hissed, "Sherlock apologize this minute."

 

"Oh REALLY John! What is your point?

 

"John dear it's alright."

 

"No, it most decidedly is not! Now see here young man..."

 

John's mouth flew open as he realized, in the few seconds he had taken to comfort Mrs.Hudson, Sherlock had slipped away and was in the loo. The sound of the shower was next.

 

"Of all the selfish, thoughtless, ill mannered.."

 

"Dear, he's always like that." She dabbed at her teary eyes.

 

"Not after today he's not. That's a promise. Please go back downstairs. We'll both see you in a while."

 

"John, he's really just a little boy grown big."

 

"I know Martha, I know."

 

~~~***~~~

 

"Oh REALLY John! I'm I meant to be intimidated by your sitting, scowling, on my bed?", Sherlock sniffed, dressing gown swirling.

 

"Wouldn't expect you to be. You are a spoiled child. I've been out of my mind with worry, and you made Mrs.Hudson cry."

 

"Old women tend to weep. It's a weakness, as is needless worry."

 

"You were missing for days, Sherlock, DAYS! For all I knew, you were injured or dead. Needless worry?!"

 

"Oh REALLY John! I knew where I was, ergo, not missing."

 

"I didn't know! Christ Sherlock, you scared me to death. You're my friend, I care about you."

 

"Sentiment? Oh REALLY John! Ridiculous!"

 

John's face turned an alarming shade of purple, "Sherlock, I'm warning you. Say oh really John once more, and you are going to be very sorry."

 

The detective smirked, "Dear me, Captain Watson in a fuzzy jumper. Terrifying. Trying for stern are you? Sorry, not working. My blustering little blogger. Oh REALLY John!"

 

John Hamish Watson was a soldier, and without thinking, that training had his bratty flatmate, dressing gown pulled up over a very pale, bare bum, arse up over his lap.

 

"You want to be a child, it's all fine. REALLY Sherlock." The next few minutes or so, John "instructed" his genius in the dynamic of actions and consequences. Once uprighted, Sherlock's arse bore numerous sets of hand and fingerprints of which NSY would be proud.

 

Eyes wide, chin trembling, Sherlock choked out, "You just smacked me like a, a.."

 

"Like a naughty little boy. Which is exactly what you are. From now on, you will behave or else! And, if that's another oh really John on your tongue, my hand is going right back on your arse."

 

Sizing up this new BAMF blogger, Sherlock looked down and whispered, "Yes, John. I'll behave."

 

"I'll believe that when I see it. In the meantime, put on some pants. You owe Hudders an apology."

 

Rubbing his bum, Sherlock shuffled his feet, "Pants will hurt, John."

 

"Alright you great baby, loose pajama bottoms then; and the apology had better be sincere."

 

"Yes Sir." John was impressed. THIS, he could get used to.

 

~~~***~~~

 

The apology had indeed been sincere, and Hudders approved enthusiastically of the "new" take charge Captain Watson.

 

Without argument, Sherlock ate and even tidied up. Afterwards, he stood awkwardly alongside the sofa where John was relaxing.

 

"You can sit by me if you like. No need to look so pitiful, I know you're probably not even sore now. Come down here you lanky sod."

 

"It might still hurt. You spanked me hard."

 

"Not all that hard, and you deserved it. You want to experience hard, just pull another stunt like that. I'll have your bum glowing in the dark. And it's a fine arse I wouldn't regret seeing again."

 

Sherlock blushed furiously, "I'm sorry, I didn't think. It distresses me that I upset you. My feelings are complicated John. I don't know how to direct them."

 

Weaving strong fingers through dark curls, John held out his other arm. "What say we start with a cuddle luv?"

 

Sinking into John's hug, Sherlock sighed. "I was never spanked as a child."

 

"That's no surprise, and again, STILL a child."

 

"Yes, yes. My point being, isn't a kiss usually given to denote forgiveness? I am forgiven John, aren't I?"

 

"Yes you brilliant cock." John kissed him like the lover he would soon become.

 

Sherlock snuggled deeply into John's embrace, "You've seen my arse, but how do you know my cock is brilliant?"

 

John grinned into another kiss, "My deductions tell me ALL of your bits are going to be bloody brilliant, AND that you're still going to be a little shit. Think I can handle you though, Sherlock Holmes."

 

The World's Only Consulting Detective smiled, "Oh REALLY John!"

**Author's Note:**

> I think in this AU, Sherlock would have never "run away from home", or John, ever again; including "The Fall."
> 
> Wouldn't we all like THAT to be our world?!
> 
> Let me know what YOU think. :)


End file.
